


in quiet proclamations

by redluxite (wordstruck)



Series: VLD One-Shots [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Matt Holt, SHEITH - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/redluxite
Summary: “Hercules.”“Hm hmm.”“Corona Australis.”“Mmmm.”“Takashi.”“Mm.”“I love you.”Or, Keith's a mechanical engineering student with a love for space, Shiro's captain of the uni football team, and Mondays are warm.





	in quiet proclamations

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written as a birthday gift for [@sun_god_rising](https://twitter.com/sun_god_rising), HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAIKY!!!! Have the fluffiest, warmest Sheith as a present. I totally didn't forget your birthday was today and not tomorrow, and totally did not nyoom this, at all.
> 
> Based on a [Twitter conversation](https://twitter.com/okw_tr/status/932149678891659265) with [@celestialchels_](https://twitter.com/celestialchels_).

* * *

 

 

Monday mornings are some of Shiro’s favorite things, for several reasons:

 

One: the football team has no training. Much as Shiro loves the sport, loves the feel of the grass and ground under his shoes as he runs, the thrill of a last-ditch tackle or a wild shot that goes in -- all that’s well and good, but it’s also nice not to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to run laps around the pitch and do ball drills. Having no class on Mondays is a welcome bonus.

 

Two: Mondays are cheat days, which means Shiro doesn’t have to leave the room to get breakfast, because he can break out his secret stash of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes, or two PopTarts if he’s feeling indulgent. The “real food” can wait until lunch, so mornings are spent munching happily on a brown sugar and cinnamon PopTart while still lounging in bed.

 

Three: Keith doesn’t have class until 2pm, which means he actually stays over from Sunday night to Monday morning instead of prying himself from Shiro’s arms to head back to his own dorm room. It means Shiro gets to wake up to the beautifully ridiculous sight of Keith’s bedhead and his sleep-soft smile.

(And when Shiro had first met him, this smart-mouthed, scrappy boy in the engineering department who’d been riling Matt up because “kids with mullets and attitude problems shouldn’t be reconstructing hoverbikes like that, Shiro, he’s infuriatingly brilliant” -- neither Shiro, football team captain and anthropology nerd, nor Keith, the prodigy of the mechanical engineering department, had expected to end up where they are now. But Shiro’s always loved being pleasantly surprised.)

So Monday morning finds Shiro in just his sweatpants, sprawled on top of Keith, head pressed to where he can hear Keith’s heartbeat. The younger boy has one hand propped up, holding a notebook over Shiro’s head; the other one is drawing lazy circles across Shiro’s broad back. The sunlight streams through the windows of Shiro’s dorm room alongside the noises from campus -- the traffic, the chatter and laughter. Keith has a tiny furrow in his brow that Shiro’s half-tempted to kiss away.

He really does love Mondays.

Under the feeling of sunlight dappling his back and of Keith’s fingers running over his skin, Shiro starts to doze off. The thoughts in his head start to blur, a vague cloud of contentment and a little hunger. He feels Keith’s soft exhale of amusement on his forehead, and hums back in satisfaction. The arm draped across Keith’s waist squeezes, briefly.

“Dork,” Keith says, exasperated and fond.

“Mmm,” Shiro responds, and buries his face in the crook of Keith’s neck.

They lapse into an easy silence but for the flip of the pages of Keith’s notebook and the sounds of their breathing, of the tiny electric fan in the room. Shiro drifts back into half-sleep, lazy and warm. It’s a few moments before he realizes Keith’s fingers are moving with a little more intent, over his shoulders, and that Keith’s talking softly.

“Ursa Major,” he says, drawing over the freckles on Shiro’s shoulders. Which, Shiro’s pretty sure doesn’t exist, because freckles aren’t constellations, but he’s too comfortable to even tease.

“Hmm?” he says instead, muffled against Keith’s shirt.

“Libra.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Andromeda.”

“Now who’s a dork.”

That earns him a flick on his bicep. “Shut up,” Keith says, nudging Shiro with his knee, where their legs are tangled together. “I’m reviewing.”

Shiro snorts at that, then laughs outright when Keith tries to dislodge him. He wraps his arms around Keith tighter, blowing a raspberry on the boy’s shoulder, shameless. Keith huffs and tugs at Shiro’s fringe, making a face. Shiro acquiesces with another laugh, settling back down so Keith can continue tracing shapes across his skin.

(Keith and his big dreams, his determination to make it to the Galaxy Garrison space program; Keith, who’d told him, half-drunk and with starlight in his eyes, that he was going to pilot a space exploration program one day; Keith,  _ his  _ Keith, sun-warmed and soft in ways no one else sees. Keith is already a whole galaxy within himself, and on sleepy mornings like this Shiro can only wonder how he gets to share this light.)

“Canis Major.”

“Mmhm.”

“Hercules.”

“Hm hmm.”

“Corona Australis.”

“Mmmm.”

“Takashi.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

It takes a moment to register, but when it does, Shiro lifts his head to see that Keith’s watching him with an immeasurably fond expression, crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a soft smile. There’s a light dusting of pink high on his cheeks. Shiro’s heart feels too full for his chest.

“Dork,” he says again, and pushes up for a kiss.

They make out lazily, easy kisses and touch. Keith skims his palms over the planes Shiro’s sun-warm skin; Shiro tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair, rolls them over so Keith’s on top, a pleasant and welcome weight. He gets his hands under Keith’s shirt, pulls him in close.

(Keith is a galaxy, is a comet, bright and burning. Shiro would chase forever after his warmth.)

Shiro breaks the kiss, tilts his head to nip at Keith’s neck, runs his lips up Keith’s jaw, cheek. He presses a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead, buries his face in dark hair.

Says, “one day I’m gonna marry you.”

There’s a space of a heartbeat, then Keith flushes, red on his cheeks as he pushes away a bit. “What the f--  _ shut up,  _ Shiro, what--”

And it makes Shiro laugh, loud and happy; makes Shiro wrap both arms around Keith’s waist and haul him in tight, play-biting at a slender shoulder. “Yep. I’m gonna marry you. I’m gonna get down on one knee and ask and kiss you stupid.”

(And Keith is so -- flustered, so embarrassed, squirming in Shiro’s grip, but that just makes him laugh harder.)

Keith finally stops moving, falling down onto Shiro’s chest and shoving his face into a freckled shoulder. One hand clenches into a fist above Shiro’s heartbeat.

He mumbles, “you don’t have to.”

“I know.” Shiro kisses his temple, grins. “I want to, anyway.”

There’s an amused snort, then Keith shoves at Shiro until Shiro lets him up, until he’s got himself propped up over Shiro and can look him in the eye. “Yeah but you just -- you don’t have to. Because. I’m already yours.”

(Keith is so, so many things but to Shiro he is everything.)

Shiro kisses him again, soft, a promise.

Here in the small dorm room, on a Monday morning, Keith smiles like starlight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come find me on Twitter as [@okw_tr](https://twitter.com/okw_tr) and Tumblr as [yurochkas](https://yurochkas.tumblr.com) for more Sheith feelings. You can check there too for ways to support my writing ^_^


End file.
